Sherlock! Why am I you?
by Brobdingnagian Pseudonym
Summary: In which Sherlock is a narcissist and John has gotten way too used to the weirdness of living in 221b.


**Yes yes, I know I should be writing for 'it was either you or the werewolf' and I have been! It's just that the chapters I've been working on aren't going to come up for... awhile.**

** Anyways. Here's a little one-shot that just popped into my head. It's a bit of an odd one. To set it up, I'll just tell you that Sherlock's a wizard and John knows. Everything else is pretty much the same. John's still a muggle and they both live under mostly muggle circumstances and yada yada. There's no romantic relationship between John and Sherlock, although they do kiss. It's a bit odd. **

** If I get any more ideas for silly things like these, t****his may end up a part of a series of one-shots**.

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"SHERLOCK!" John yelled from the bathroom, where he retreated to after claiming his stomach 'felt weird'. Sherlock smirked quietly to himself and pulled a small tube of chap stick from his pocket. He applied it swiftly as he heard John stumble/stomp back to the kitchen and pocketed it as he reappeared at the doorway. "Sherlock! Why am I you?"

John stormed into the kitchen looking a bit angry, a little confused and quite a lot... Sherlock. John stumbled over feet that were much too big for his own body and glared with eyes that were much sharper than he ever remembered having. Sherlock's gaze raked appreciatively over John's body which suddenly was identical to his.

_'Only superficially identical, though' _Sherlock sighed as he watched John stub his toe on a chair and hop around the kitchen on one foot. '_But it'll do.'_

"Sherlock. Explain to me right know wh-" The consulting detective ignored his flatmate's demands as he loomed much too close to John for comfort and carefully arranged his double's curls until they were a reflection of his own.

"I've always wanted to try this." The wizard smiled fondly as he leaned in closer. John,

"Sher-" Before he could protest any further, Sherlock's hand slipped to the back of his neck, pulling him in close.

At the first brush of Sherlock's lips against his, John jerked away only to be pulled back in with twice the passion. The hand that was not toying with the singular curl at the base of his skull came up to cup his jaw. The army doctor rolled his eyes as he felt a thumb caress his newly protruding cheekbones.

Normally, John would've been utterly _freaked_ if Sherlock had tried kissing him. Yes, the arrogant bastard meant the world to him and he'd be lost if Sherlock had never cannonballed into his life, but _eugh_. But in this circumstance, Sherlock wasn't really kissing _him._ If anything, he was kissing a body he just happened to be occupying. And somehow that brought the weird back to a more tolerable level. So he stood still and tried not to think about how he could taste Sherlock's coffee (Black, two sugars. As always) or how he must've gained Sherlock's erogenous zones because he could swear his earlobes were never that sensitive. In fact, if he didn't think too hard about how very _Sherlock _Sherlock was or how very Sherlock _he _was, it was actually quite nice. His lips were awfully soft and plush and John forgot how pleasant it was to kiss someone who was the same height as himself. Ah the plight of the short man with a fondness for tall women.

Sherlock pulled away, an insufferably smug smile crossing his slightly dazed face. "Hmm. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Narcissistic bastard." John rolled his eyes, pushing Sherlock away with a little more force than he anticipated. He wasn't quite sure yet how muscles his worked. "How long am I stuck as you? If I have to go on that date with Cassie on Saturday as you, I'm gonna kill you. But only if she doesn't kill me first."

"Going to. Don't you dare desecrate my voice with slang. The polyjuice should wear off in a few hours." John nodded and reached for his tea to wash the Sherlock out of his mouth. "Ah. I wouldn't drink any more of that if I were you... That is, I wouldn't drink that if I didn't want to be me. I mean, I slipped the potion into your tea."

John groaned and tossed the remaining liquid into the sink. "I thought it tasted... different."

"Oh? What like?" The doctor shot him a questioning look as he poured a fresh cup of tea. "It changes depending on the person it's made to emulate. I'm curious."

"Honey." John said, downing the fresh cup.

"Huh. I never thought I'd taste sweet." Sherlock pulled his phone out and started typing on it at lightening speed.

"So did you have any actual reason for turning me to you? Or was it just to fulfill your own sick fantasy." Sherlock grunted an affirmative as he stared at his phone, but didn't give a verbal answer for a minute.

"Yes. For my current case, I'm find myself in need of two of me. But don't worry, you won't be required to do any actual thinking, just to stand back and look gorgeous. Also, it's **'did. you.'** not 'didja'. If you're going to pass as me, you will need to **e-nun-ci-ate. **Now go into my room and get dressed." He burst into a flurry of movement, instructing John while pulling on his coat, pocketing his phone and rummaging through the flat for a small book on leaf identification and a pair of binoculars.


End file.
